


Elvish Soup

by MAPMonstersArePerceptions



Series: Every Sweet Has Its Sour, Every Evil Its Good [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Potter Manor (setting)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28010202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAPMonstersArePerceptions/pseuds/MAPMonstersArePerceptions
Summary: Series of one-shots dealing with the adult house-elves in the series and their thoughts on events.1. Holly Wakes Up2. Ashen Asks Questions
Series: Every Sweet Has Its Sour, Every Evil Its Good [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051541
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. Holly Wakes Up

“Every sweet has its sour; every evil its good.”

The words echo unceasingly in my mind, the blessing spoken over my babe born before her time. Though I’m cut off from the outside world, my body acknowledges the loss and mourns. Master’s pulsing magic lulled me into this healing sleep while his presence haunts my dreams. Masters are not meant for elvish birthing chambers, ever.

I awakened to my mate, Ashen, gripping my hand tightly. I could feel him feeding his energy into my prone body. Named after the tree, I’d never before seen him so pale, and while his hand was strong, his body trembled subtly from the strain.

Sighing, I pulled my hand away to stop the energy transfer. A quick glance around the room confirmed my fears, but I needed to hear it. Only then could I try to move on.

“What—,” I gasped, never before had I been this weak, “—happened?” My arms automatically gripped around my belly to protect the treasure that had been inside. 

Ashen’s words were a knife wound to my heart. “Master came. Master left... with her. I was ordered to rest. When I awoke, another elf was here. Master allowed me to stay with you, Holly. I don’t…” Ashen’s voice shook with emotion. “I don’t know where they put her.”

My eyes filled with tears. Potter elves were always buried in a place of honor on the grounds. That she might have been thrown out with the trash or… or, my brain stalled imagining the horrors I’d heard tell of happening in other households. I had to remind myself that this new master, Potter though he may be, was not raised by the family. 

Suddenly, another house-elf that I’d never seen before burst in carrying a bowl of soup. She was the strangest looking elf I’d ever seen. Obviously free by her assortment of proper elvish garments mixed with wizarding ones, what really made her stand out was the large steak knife strapped to her side like a sword for battle. Seeing me awake, she immediately turned around mumbling about pouring me a bowl too and ‘Mister Harry’ wanting to know. 

I… I didn’t want Master to know I was awake. I was still strangely off-center with how I felt about him. His return to the Manor was a good thing, a cause for celebration surely, but in the wake of this personal tragedy instigated by his mere arrival, I was anything but thankful.

Alas, the wishes of a house-elf are meaningless at best, a tool to be used against our persons at worst. Even now, I could hear his heavy boots on the stairway and feel his magic flood the room well before he came into sight. Ashen took my hand, though whether he did so to help me rise to meet our new master or to remind me to remain composed was anyone’s guess. 

His hand knocked on the wood framing the entrance before he entered, waving at us to remain seated. In his hand was the largest bowl I’d ever seen, rich elvish soup filling it to the brim. Before a word could be said, he placed the bowl on the small side table and admonished us to eat our fill. The two elf-sized spoons allowed us to do so, though it was difficult to ignore the wizard in the room. 

“I would’ve brought two bowls, but I’m afraid I’m a hand short,” he explained almost sheepishly. I’d never heard a Potter sound so unsure of himself, nor had I ever seen one go down on one knee—a move he’d seemingly taken so that he could be at eye level with us. It did not mesh well with the dismissive master I’d made him out to be. How could he have such compassion for Ashen and me yet so little for our child? 

I also did not understand the reference to his hand. Since he’d entered the room, one hand had been within sight while the other remained hidden inside the folds of his robe. Perhaps he’d injured it in the war? I knew from word of mouth that this master played a crucial part in the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. In spite of everything, I did not wish for him to be in pain.

“Is… is your hand okay, Master?” I asked, hesitantly.

Still keeping the one hand hidden, he ran the other through infamous Potter hair. 

“It’s fine, just held a little captive at the moment.” He spoke hesitantly, his eyes bouncing between me and Ashen as if we might hurt him. I could not spare much thought to that, however, as he opened his robe at the same moment. On his chest was a small sling carrying… 

The cold air roused the babe from peaceful slumber. I could see now that his hand was held captive by the elfling, my elfling, who had sought to snuggle it while resting. Hearing her cry tore at me. She was alive? I feared Master’s response to her protesting cry, surprised when he did naught but comfort her with gentle hands and a soothing voice. Once she had calmed, he carefully removed her from the sling and held her out to us as an offering. 

For a time, I was lost to the amber gaze of my little one. I knew not the circumstances that had led to her survival, neither did I care. All that mattered was that she was safe. I returned to myself to see Master holding out a tiny bottle of anjou juice and honey. Of course. I’d been asleep so long that my daughter would have become used to the elvish formula. Now that I thought of it… 

“How long have I been asleep?” While my memory of her birth was fuzzy, I was quite sure that my child had been much smaller than this. I also noticed absently that her ears had already unfurled. I’d have to ask the house-elf with the steak knife what my baby had been named. 

Master’s answer of two weeks did not make any sense. Had she been born at the proper time, maybe such would be possible. But my baby was over a month early. Wasn’t she? 

Master must have seen the confusion shining in my eyes. He pulled an elf-sized photo album from his pocket and handed it to Ashen. While I fed my little one her bottle, Ashen flipped through the images hidden underneath, and Master narrated. 

Not wanting us to miss a thing, he’d charmed a camera to follow him around, snapping pictures of every aspect of my child’s day. Ashen and I got to see her first meals, fed with a stopper because she was too small for even the smallest bottle. We saw her getting her nappy changed, taking naps, getting weighed each morning, graduating to a bottle for feedings, the unfurling of her ears… Seemingly everything we’d missed was available to us through this precious photo album. We learned that she’d been named Honey ‘because she’s so sweet’ and that, while she had been gifted some toys to play with, her favourite toy appeared to be Master’s hand. Seeing that same hand tell a story with shadow puppets for my child and tickle her tummy to make her grin, I could see why. Actually, almost every image of Honey also featured Master. Even when she slept, she was in his arms or in the sling rather than by herself. In the photos depicting a sleeping master, he elected to sleep in a rocking chair rather than disturb the elfling. 

At some point during the presentation, I was forced to blink back tears in order to see the photos clearly. We’d been so wrong about our new Master. He hadn’t harmed Honey. He’d saved her. Even now while she was in my arms, his magic encircled her, seeking to keep her safe. That plus the regular feedings might explain her unusual growth spurt as well. I owed Master so much.

Before he left, I had to give voice to my feelings.

“Master, we, I, misjudged you. What do you want from us?” I kept my eyes firmly on the image of Honey being soothed after her first batch of hiccups had scared her. Just one of those scenes was a miracle; we had an albumful. He’d been so patient with Honey and was owed reparations for his troubles and our lack of faith. 

Yet again, he surprised me.

“Your forgiveness?” He asked with that damnable hesitancy. “I should have guessed what Ashen would have assumed when I took her that first night. I should have brought her here regularly so that he could see her. Instead, I let you think the worst. For that, you have my most sincere apologies.”

Too shocked to respond, Ashen took over. “Master, how could you have known? Masters who are raised with us would not think to put themselves in our place. You have not had much interaction with elves at all, have you?”

Master let out a full-body sigh. “There are elves I know, one of which I would even go so far as to call a friend, but the dynamic was different, very different.”

“See? You have nothing to apologize for. There was no way for you to know, and you’ve gone far above any expectations to help Honey. And so, we ask again. What would you ask from us as repayment?”

A shadow seemed to pass over Master, but it passed in an instant. 

“Children are the future. I could no more ignore her needs than I could avoid my role in the war. In this house…” here he paused, seemingly overcome with emotion. “In this house, no child will ever be a burden to me, no matter their form. I’m not someone to fear, except in the protection of my family. As Potter elves, you are under my protection.”

And so we were.


	2. Ashen Asks Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master Harry is different from any master Ashen has ever known. After 6 months with the man, he asks why.

Seeing Honey in Holly’s arms was a sight more precious than gold. Alas, it was time that I take my leave of them and seek out Master Harry. Honey was almost six months now, and her magic grew stronger all the time. Hence today’s mayhem. This was a magical cicada year, and the roar of their hum hurt her ears, causing her to seek out the comfort of Master Harry while he was in a meeting. 

As I’d learned to almost expect from him, Master Harry was not troubled in the least by her presence and even called a break so that he could see to her needs before continuing with her in his lap. The ear warmers seemed to protect her from the noise enough to keep her calm, but this trend in behavior on his part was painting a picture that I needed help interpreting. Wizards had a hard enough time being patient with their own kin hence their need for elvish nannies. What could have caused him to have this unending patience for Honey?

As is always the case when entering the presence of my master, his magic seeks me out, searching for anything out of place. 

“Hello, Ashen. Is everything well with Honey and Holly?” Master’s eagerness to ensure our needs were met bordered on the ridiculous. I nodded and wondered where I ought to begin. 

He nodded to the elf-sized furniture in the room. “Have a seat. You look like there’s something on your mind.” He gently commanded. Even after six months, I’ve still not gotten used to him. 

“Did the ear warmers help? I know they aren’t the best. Mrs. Weasley has only recently started teaching me how to make them. I promise that before I gave them to her, I confirmed with Winky that they wouldn’t count as clothes!” There it was. A minute flinch from an otherwise steady man. Master Harry was the only master I knew of who cared so deeply for the approval of his elves. Any carefully thought out wording flew away as my need to understand reached a peak.

“What makes you, you, Master? You are so, so… you.” I finished lamely. Thankfully, he understood and did not take offense.

“I guess I’m not exactly what anyone would call typical, eh?” He ran his hand through his hair distractedly. “What do you know about my childhood, where I went after that Halloween?”

“I know you were hidden from magical circles, Master. You lacked an elvish nanny to tend to you. Anything else is not known but suppositions.”

“What I tell you, I have to ask that it stays between us. You can tell Holly if you feel it is prudent, but that’s it. Okay?” The vulnerability in his eyes was painful to see. His words, after I swore myself to secrecy, were even more difficult to hear though I had suspected aspects of it.

I learned that Master had been deprived of anything resembling a normal human childhood. His early years more closely resembled that of a poorly treated house-elf than anything else. Hogwarts, far from being a refuge from ill-treatment, seemed to be a place fraught with danger for him, even if it was the first place he could remember calling home. 

Then he told me of Dobby, a strange house-elf who had gone to extreme lengths to protect a human with whom he lacked any formal connection. The makeshift grave that he created for the elf reminded me of the respect his grandfather had held for my father many decades ago. The traumas of war had left their mark on Master as much as his childhood had. Everything made a horrible kind of sense. His kindness had been tried by fire and was all the stronger for it. Caring for Honey helped him work through the marks far better than any formal treatment.

“Thank you, Master, for sharing. Yours has been a life marked by evil and suffering. May it be that Potter Manor offers you the sweetness you’ve lacked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Read and Review!


End file.
